Gabriel held her fast. Franc was no longer between them. He’d abandoned Effie’s lap in favor of the stack of blankets on the floor of the gondola. “I’m still going to reform it, but not with the help of some feckless politician. I’ll do it myself. I’m going to run for a seat on the St. Giles District Board of Works. After that, who knows? Perhaps I’ll stand for Parliament. There are already villains aplenty in politics. One more won’t do any harm.”

Her fingers threaded in his hair. This time, no gloves impeded her. She could pet him as much as she liked. Indeed, he appeared to relish her proprietary touches. He held still for every caress, his breath fracturing in the most delicious way.

“Oh, Gabriel,” she said. “What a splendid plan.”

His lips brushed over her cheek. “Then, you approve?”

“Entirely. If you’re in Parliament, you can assist the passage of a married women’s property bill. With Compton out of the way, there’s every chance it will come to a vote.”

He gave a husky chuckle. The sound tickled her ear as sensually as a purr.

“You would support it, wouldn’t you?” she asked him.

“Darling,” he said, “I’m yours to command.”

She smiled. “I shall try not to let it go to my head.”

His hand moved over her back. His expression sobered. “I should tell you, this likely means an end to my betting shop. I’ll have no great riches. No particular power. If you join your lot to mine, minx, you must take me as I am.”

Effie recalled his offer to her on their return from Trowley Green. “What are you proposing this time?”

He slowly drew back to meet her gaze. His face was as serious as she’d ever seen it. Only his eyes betrayed the truth of his vulnerability. The deepest desires of his heart were written there, laid bare for her to see. “Marriage,” he said.

A gust of wind whistled over them, snapping against the silk of the balloon.

Effie scarcely noticed. The whole of her attention was focused on Gabriel’s face. His answer wasn’t the one she’d been expecting. “On the train, you said—”

“I know what I said then. I was playing the odds. Offering you what I thought you’d accept, instead of what I truly wanted—you as my wife. I want no more question in your mind about where you belong. Which reminds me—” Releasing her, he reached into the pocket of his waistcoat. “I have something for you.”

Effie watched, pulse quickening, as he withdrew a flat velvet box from his pocket. It wasn’t shaped like a ring box. It was something else. She couldn’t imagine what.

He handed it to her.